Red Truck Rendezvous

If all goes well, I’ll bring it back in a day or two.”
“You be careful,” Gram stood, reaching across the table and squeezing Portia’s hand. “We like having you here.”
Portia squeezed Gram’s hand in return, leaning over and planting a soft kiss on the woman’s wrinkled cheek. “Thank you,” she said simply, turning and striding out the door.
So many thoughts and feelings tumbled through Portia’s head as she packed for her quick trip south. She wasn’t even sure what she tossed in her soft-sided bag. It seemed that in such a short time, she was becoming very attached to the people and places here in Michigan. She had come for a summer holiday. A mini-adventure, but was finding so much more. All her life, it had only been her and her dad. What would it be like to belong to a much larger family?

Chapter 12
It seemed strangely quiet at the dinner table that night when Pablo came home. He had worked late, making sure the engine was perfect, but he felt Portia’s absence keenly back home. As annoying as the woman was, he was getting used to her. He missed seeing her walking along the shore or popping in to ask him a question. It was evident that he and Portia were from two different worlds, but he couldn’t help his attraction to her.
He still didn’t know what had come over him, causing him to kiss her in such a way. He had never really had much time for girls over the years, but there was something that drew him to Portia: an irresistible, irritant that seemed to have gotten under his skin. He didn’t have time for romance. His business was growing, he had regular customers, and he was making a name for himself as someone to go to for muscle car work.
It didn’t matter in the end though. He and Portia were from two different worlds.  Worlds so far apart that not even a love for all things motorized could bridge that gulf. Besides, Portia would be gone as soon as he had Sweetie fixed. He had already set up the bodywork schedule and painting for the next few days. He would tow the truck to his old boss to have it painted while he worked on the transmission. The last details were falling into place, and once Portia returned with here salvage truck, she would be that much closer to roaring out of his life in a cloud of dust.
“Aren’t you hungry tonight?” Gram asked. She had been eyeing him funny all night, and he wondered if his confusion was that obvious.
“No, I mean yes, I’m hungry, I just have a lot on my mind.”
The old woman chuckled, a knowing sound as if she had a secret he should know. “If you say so,” she mused. “I’ll fix us a nice cup of hot cocoa with cinnamon and vanilla. Maybe that will help ease your mind. You always did overthink things.”
“Pablo?” Carlos asked, looking between the two. “You mean the little brother who was always on the razor's edge of falling into trouble?” He grinned, reaching out and patting Pablo on the shoulder.
“Don’t you tease him now, Carlos, he is working very hard to make Portia happy.”
Pablo’s head snapped up, looking at the only grandmother he had ever known. Had Portia said something to her? What if she knew he had kissed the pretty woman? Pablo felt his face flush, and he dropped his gaze, turning his attention to his meal.
“I guess you have been working pretty hard,” Carlos admitted. “I’m proud of what you’ve done with that garage. I shouldn’t tease you so much.”
“Thanks,” Pablo mumbled. His brother had always been willing to do whatever it took to look after his younger siblings, and the older Pablo got, the more he realized what Carlos had sacrificed. He didn’t think of himself as a bad egg, but it was true that as a teen, Pablo was more likely to be seen driving his boss’s fancy cars, or battered jalopies, loaded down with loud music and louder friends.
“Gram, thank you for another fine meal,” Carlos said. “I’m going to go check on Jamie and Chris. He probably has her as soaked, and suds covered as he is by now. Bath time is never an easy task.” He grinned, pushing out of his chair and leaving the room.
“You finish up there,” Gram said, nodding to Pablo’s plate of chicken and dumplings. “I’ll make that cocoa, and we’ll have a little chat.”
For a moment, the short hair on the back Pablo’s neck prickled. It had never been a good sign when one of his family members said they needed to talk. All too often, it brought back memories of the day that Carlos had told him and Nita that their parents had been lost in a terrible car accident on Christmas Eve. Even now, he had moments when he was sure they were watching over him from a distance.
Carlos had organized a memorial service to help bring closure to the family’s grief, but with no bodies to bury, something always seemed that little bit out of place.
“Here,” Gram placed a piping mug of hot chocolate in front of him, whisking away his empty plate at the same time. Hot steam rose around mountains of whipped cream, and little shavings of dark chocolate sprinkled the top.
“Thanks, Gram,” he said, taking a spoon and dipping into the top of the mountain.
“You like that girl, don’t you?” Gram asked, causing him to choke on his treat. She never batted an eye as she settled across the table from him, slowly stirring the whipped cream into her special blend of cocoa.
“No, I mean, I’m just doing a job. Portia is a client.”
“A very pretty client.”
“A very self-centered, spoiled client.”
“A lovely, very kissable client.”
Pablo opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. How could he deny the truth? He had kissed Portia, and he would do it again given half